


"What are you doing up so late?"

by fireandhoney



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: 221b, Baker Street, Finally!, First Kiss, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, M/M, by the fireplace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:01:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28178781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireandhoney/pseuds/fireandhoney
Summary: "I couldn't sleep."
Relationships: Johnlock, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 38





	"What are you doing up so late?"

"What are you doing up so late?"  
I froze, startled. I looked up and met his eyes. He was sitting by the fireplace, a glass of what appeared to be whiskey. I rubbed my forearm, taking a few steps closer. "I couldn't sleep."  
I saw him nod, then motion for me to join him. I hesitated, maybe it'd be better to just avoid it all entirely and go back to bed. But who would I be kidding? We both knew we couldn't walk around it forever.  
I walked over and sat down in the seat opposite, making it a point to keep my eyes averted. I stared at the fire, focusing on the way the flames brightened everything in a soft glow. Focusing on the crackling, on the reds and oranges and yellows intertwining, on the burning scent. On anything but the man sitting in front of me. Which, I had to admit, was a failure. The more I tried to steer my thoughts away, the more precisely they became entirely about him. About the way I'd felt a fire burning in my stomach the moment I felt his lips against mine. About how I'd felt my skin had been alight with excitement as his fingers ran along my arms, slid down my chest, slipped under my shirt and up my sides. About how I could still feel his warmth imprinted on my body, even hours after we'd broken apart. Even hours after what happened.  
He cleared his throat and pulled me out of my string of thoughts. I instantly looked up at him and our eyes met. He raised an eyebrow and extended his arm towards me, handing me his glass. I started shaking my head to refuse, but he insisted.  
"It'll do you good."  
I accepted the offering. I eyed the liquid as I moved the tumbler, watched as it swirled around the glass. Its colour kept changing from a dark brown to a glowing orange in the soft lighting.  
I took a gulp and coughed. Another kind of fire, a trail of burning down my throat. Not particularly pleasant, but not exactly painful either. More of a shock, an intensity that makes you feel alive. Adrenaline, maybe.  
"Stop it."  
I frowned and turned back towards him.  
"Stop what?"  
"Thinking. You're excessively thinking again, I can hear it. Stop it." He looked at me and cooked his head to the side, as if daring me to challenge his claim. I didn't, so he continued.  
"No matter how many times you analyse and observe and categorize the data, it won't change what happened."  
I took a deep breath.  
"I don't know what else to do."  
"How about instead of talking to yourself, you talk to me?"  
I looked down and away from him, my eyes landing on my feet. What could I say to him? What could he say to me? Following a series of intense, eventful days, we ended up kissing. Accidentally.(?) Way too passionately.  
Against the wall by the front door of our shared living room.  
Coats being ripped open and thrown on the floor.  
And then just as suddenly as the moment had come, it had passed.  
He stepped back, and we stared at each other, heavily breathing, in confusion and wonder. And regret? Was it regret, or was it fear? Caution? Who knows, because as I was about to ask, he said "I'm.. I'm not.." and I just, I couldn't hear it again. I couldn't live that moment, I couldn't stand in. So I turned around and walked away. I heard the soft "Sherlock" he breathed out, but I refused to have to watch John Watson tell me once again he wasn't gay. And so I locked myself in my room, hiding in my emails and texting Lestrade about a possible new case until I couldn't bear the silence any longer. I thought I might work on one of my ongoing experiments or perhaps pick up the violin (it does help me think), but I was interrupted by the source of my problems in person.  
"Sherlock."  
My head snapped back up. His eyes were sad, and I recognized the worry in them. Ever the carer, my dear Watson.  
"Mhm?"  
"Talk to me."  
I set the glass on the table and joined my hands under my chin, closing my eyes.  
"What do you want me to tell you?"  
"Anything, what's going on in that head of yours."  
"As always John, I must remind you that my brain works the exact same way yours does, with synapses relaying information and-"  
"You ass. You know damn well what I meant."  
"What am I supposed to tell you, John? That I never thought I would ever get involved with others until I met you? That you are the first person I've ever considered a friend? That I realized I genuinely care and worry about you, much more than the magazines say friends do? That I did 27 different tests all titled in a similar fashion of "Is it platonic or is it love?" trying to understand these strange feelings that I cannot explain and have never experienced before? That I spent my whole life being told sentiment is a fault found on the losing side and should be avoided at all cost? That emotions and being involved always end in failure? That I did everything to try and suppress those feelings and pretend they didn't exist in the hope that they'd disappear. That the more I pushed them down, the stronger they became and the harder it was to hide them. How I felt my entire world shift upside down when you looked at me with that smile, your eyes bright as they always are when you smile your genuine smile. That I stopped breathing as you pushed me back against the wall and kissed me. That my brain stopped and I couldn't think about anything else but you and your soft lips and your warm hands and the smell of your shampoo mixed in with the scent of your sweat after we'd spent a good part of the last few hours running? How anxious and incoherent my thoughts came running at me as you pulled back and stared at me. How my entire being shut down as you started talking and I saw your expression change, and I just couldn't hear you say one more time that John Watson isn't, never was and never will be a gay man, because I could pretend it was all fine before, but now knowing how extraordinary it is to feel for even one moment what it is like to be loved by you, I couldn't survive being rejected once again."  
I finished talking and noticed I was out of breath, my fingers pressing so hard against each other they were sore. I tried to calm down, when abruptly, my focus was taken to somewhere else. He'd leaned forward and put his hand on my knee, slowly rubbing my leg with his thumb.  
"Sherlock.. Sherlock?"  
I nodded, but didn't acknowledge him otherwise.  
I heard him take a deep breath, then admitting "That's not what I was going to say."  
"What do you mean, Sherlock is my name, why would you not--?"  
"God, Sherlock, you are just so exasperating sometimes! I mean, I wasn't going to say that I'm not gay."  
A beat of silence followed.  
" _Oh_."  
"Yes, _oh_. Now just, listen. I was going to tell you that I don't know if that was okay. For you. I know you're different and you've never.. I'm not.. I wasn't sure if what I did was okay. I thought I might have crossed a line--"  
"You definitely did cross a line--"  
He sighed, and I felt him move, but he didn’t remove his hand. I opened my eyes to observe him and we looked at each other, quiet understanding settling upon us. Eventually, he leaned back, letting go of my leg. He squared his shoulders, a sign that he was pulling hard on his courage.  
“I didn’t do tests, but I feel the same way.”  
John’s voice was soft, but it wasn’t hesitant. I nodded, trying to figure out what one was to answer to such a confession.  
“We’re idiots, aren’t we?”  
John’s face lit up and he chuckled.  
“Definitely.”

**Author's Note:**

> They might end up getting a few extra chapters if I find the time to come back to it, but for now, it's a one shot.   
> Hope you enjoyed it!


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